An Exorcist's Dilemma
by Yesm777
Summary: John goes alone to finish a job, only to find himself alone and injured. Lost in a haze of pain, he has to depend on his friends to get him help. Oneshot. John whump. Warning for some language.


_Author's Note: It's been awhile. This idea came to me randomly one day, but I can't say I have any personal experience on the subject. So, forgive me if it doesn't seem quite right. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think in a review! Thanks for reading, peeps._

 _Warning: Language_

 **An Exorcist's Dilemma**

Breathe, damn it. Just figure out how to breathe.

His lungs hiccupped and gasped, struggling to find the right rhythm as his eyes clenched shut. A whimper snaked out of his mouth, quickly turning to a pained growl.

Hell, it hurt. Pain. Pain, pain, pain. Damn, it was all he could think about.

He almost wished he'd died on impact.

White hot spikes of agony shot from his leg, winding horrifically through every muscle as his heart beat wildly against his chest. Breathing seemed nigh impossible, his lungs panicking as the pain ripped through him, clawing angrily at his shaking muscles.

If he wasn't going to die, he needed help. Damn it, he needed help.

He clamped his mouth shut as a rough scream scraped out of his lungs, muffled by pursed lips as his eyes clenched tightly. He considered praying.

No, no praying. Hell, even now, he didn't want to give Manny the satisfaction.

John forced his eyes open, blearily glancing around through squinted eyelids as his lungs kept up their uneven gasping. What was he doing? He couldn't remember, his thoughts overtaken by the overwhelming rush of pain.

Help. Need help.

He squinted harder, peering through blurry vision at the dim, dirty floor. Sweat was beginning to drip into his eyes, forcing them shut again as he shook violently against the piercing agony radiating from his leg.

He forced himself to look again, eyes falling on the abandoned cell phone across the grimy concrete. A tense whimper slid from his mouth as he saw how far away the damn thing was. It may have been only a few feet, but—to John—it seemed like miles.

John allowed himself a few pained moans as he let the defeat creep into his mind. He clenched his teeth together, his muscles growing tighter with the prolonged strain of injury. His senses were overwhelmed, the childish desire to curl up and die drifting through his thoughts.

No, he needed help.

Still struggling for proper air, he turned his head just enough to see the wretched phone. Taking as much of a breath as he could manage, he reached an arm out to grasp the small device. Pain exploded through his body, the excruciating agony tearing from his legs and bolting down every nerve in his body.

He screamed, his throat steadily tearing with the effort. Tears bit at his eyes as he kept stretching himself, his raw cries ripping through clenched teeth.

Make it stop, make it stop, _make it stop_.

His fingers clasped around the phone, a glimmer of relief buried under the bright flashes of pain. Black spotted his vision, his head growing heavy as the agony grew strangely numb and heavy.

Before he could stop it, he passed out.

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John awoke with a gasp, screaming in agony as the pain in his leg assaulted every bit of him. Despite himself, he let out a sob, squeezing his eyes shut as tears gathered in his eyes. Desperation shredded the last bit of his dignity, his strength waning dramatically.

To hell with dignity. Just make it _stop._

Johns fingers tightened around the phone in his hand, nearly having forgotten its existence in the first place. With a pathetic moan, he pulled the device closer to himself, his body still shivering against the agony.

With trembling fingers, he managed to press a button with his eyes squeezed shut. He couldn't be sure it was even the right button, but he desperately needed someone to answer. If there was a moment he needed to speed dial anyone, it was now.

He peeled his eyes open, a sob escaping his lungs as he blearily stared at the screen.

With one shaking finger, he put the call on speaker phone.

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"I don't think John should've gone alone," Zed growled, shifting uneasily in her chair.

"He insisted," Chaz replied, reading casually through the paper. Nothing suspicious here. Perhaps the news had something better.

"Shouldn't we have gone anyway? You know, just followed behind him?"

"He would've known," Chas answered patiently. "And he said he could handle it alone. I wouldn't worry too much. He's fairly capable on his own."

Zed frowned. "I have a hard time trusting him with his own safety."

Chas peered over the paper at the psychic, a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. "Well, he also told me the address before he left this morning."

Zed bolted upright, her back stiff. "Then why aren't we going?"

"There's a reason he told me, and not you," Chas muttered, folding the paper up as he set it aside. "Sometimes John likes a solo case." He frowned a little as his phone vibrated his in pocket. He fished it out, looking at Zed. "But John's not always an idiot. Sometimes he takes precautions."

Chas looked down at the caller ID, his frown deepening at the name blaring across the screen. He didn't hesitate to answer.

"John?" he mumbled, watching Zed's wide eyes. At the sound of a broken sob, Chas scrambled from his seat, heart beating frantically against his chest. "John, what's wrong?"

There was a pained cry from the other end, raw and desperate as it clawed out of the skinny exorcist. Chas's heart clenched at the sound, panic rising dangerously from his belly.

"Zed," he barked, snatching his keys off the end table, and racing for the spiral staircase. He didn't have to look to know the psychic was following close behind.

The two of them burst from the millhouse, letting the door slam behind them as they bolted for the cab. As they slid into the old taxi, Chas abruptly shoved the phone into Zed's hands.

"Try to get him to talk. Anything. Get him to say anything," Chas instructed hurriedly, turning the ignition, throwing the cab into drive, and stomping on the gas. Zed could hear bits of rock and bark chips spit from under the tires, the vehicle jerking with the movement as she smashed the phone against her ear.

"John?" she urged. A strained moan drifted over the line, the raw sound of agony stopping Zed's breath in her chest. "John?"

Her only answer was the sound of a desperate sob and unsteady gasping.

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Before the cab had even rolled to a stop, Zed flung herself from the passenger seat, and sprinted towards the warehouse. She could hear Chas's heavy footsteps behind her, quickly catching up. Without hesitation, she tore the worn door open, rushing into the dim innards.

John's harsh cries echoed through the warehouse, growing hoarser with repetition. With Chas's phone still gripped in her hand, Zed whirled around, searching every corner of the warehouse.

Her eyes fell onto the crumpled mass of John Constantine.

"John," she huffed, rushing into the dark corner with Chas hot on her heels. As she grew closer, she found herself fighting off tears, John's clear look of agony biting through the darkness. He was trembling, sweat dripping down his face as it mixed with blood and dirt.

She was on her knees before she even realized how close she'd become. Chas scrambled to the exorcist's other side, already scanning his best friend for injury.

"Hell, John," Chas spat, eyes glued to one of John's legs.

Zed followed his gaze, wincing harshly as she traced the unnatural bend to John's thigh. She looked to Chas, fear bleeding into her features.

"Must be his femur," Chas muttered, quickly placing gentle hands on John's head as he inspected a sluggishly weeping head wound.

"We have to get him to the hospital," Zed urged, panicked and overwhelmed. "We should call an ambulance." Her heart tore as she watched John struggle for breath, eyes shut tightly as he whimpered and sobbed. He was pale. Too pale.

"No," Chas answered quickly. "No ambulance. If they see him here, with these injuries, the authorities will start poking around. That's the last thing John needs."

"We can't move him," Zed growled. "Not just the two of us. We'll just hurt him more."

"Believe me when I say that's the better option here," Chas argued, a touch of resignation in his voice. "I don't want to do it either, Zed. I really don't. But, with John's stint in the mental institution and everything in the millhouse, a police investigation is not an option."

Zed stared at him for a moment, the sorrowful realization spilling into her eyes. "I don't know if I can handle moving him."

Chas looked at the small exorcist, the dread plain in his eyes. "Yeah, I know the feeling," he muttered, listening to John's whimpers and cries as he shook through the pain. Chas hated this. All of this.

He looked at Zed. "Okay, we pull him up by the arms," Chas instructed. "Whatever you do, don't put him down. We get him to the cab."

Zed's eyes lingered on his for a moment, hesitant and frightful. Steeling her resolve, she gave him a sharp nod.

"On three," Chas muttered, glancing worriedly at the nearly delirious demonologist. The two of them hooked their arms under John's, preparing for the dreadful journey. "One, two…three!"

They hauled him up immediately, Chas hooking a couple fingers in John's belt loop to keep his injured leg off the ground. John's face went gray at the movement, a scream tearing from his lungs as his expression twisted alarmingly in agony.

"You're gonna be fine, John," Zed huffed, her eyes burning as she and Chas dragged the thin man across the warehouse. "You're gonna be okay."

John barely had enough time to breathe between screams.

Zed and Chas broke a little at the sound, Zed kicking the door open as the three of them made it outside and to the cab. Carefully, Zed and Chas put John into the backseat, managing to jostle the broken limb. John's scream grew louder, only to drown in a desperate sob when he finally collapsed against the backseat.

"Get in the back," Chas croaked, his voice ravaged by terror. Zed quickly obeyed, running to the other side of the cab and slipping under John's head before running her hands gently through his hair.

Chas practically dived into the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life as he smoothly set off for the nearest hospital.

He never wanted to do this again.

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Zed stared down at the sludge in her paper cup. She hardly drank any of the coffee, too overwhelmed to find reassurance in its warmth.

Chas had skillfully crafted some story about John helping him fix something on the roof, only to fall from two stories. Thankfully, the staff believed it, only frowning at John's white shirt and tie. Still, they said nothing.

Zed and Chas knew John would make it. A doctor made it clear to them from the beginning, simply sharing the details of what they found in a preliminary examination, and describing the following treatment. That had been hours ago.

So, they knew he would be fine. That wasn't the problem. It was John's pained screams echoing in their minds.

The wretched sound seemed to loop continually in their heads, reminding them of the raw agony in the tearing cries. Chas wasn't even sure how John managed to make a call, let alone stay coherent long enough to realize he needed to make one.

Zed looked over at the larger man, sympathetic to the haunted look in his eyes. It would be a long time before either of them forgot the agonized look on John's face.

"Family of John Constantine?"

Chas and Zed shot up instantly.

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John could feel himself fighting through the cobwebs of unconsciousness. He felt heavy and sore, his body strangely weary. His mind attempted to sift through his memories, completely lost as to why he felt so stiff.

"John?"

He groaned, prying his eyes open. Sharp light hit his dark orbs, forcing them closed again as he fought to recover. With a sharp sigh, he reopened his eyes, staring—unfocused—at a familiar blur.

"Zed?" he croaked, blinked repeatedly to clear his vision.

"Thank heavens," she huffed, seating herself carefully in the chair beside his bed. "It's nice to hear you talking."

He frowned, raising a brow. "Never thought I'd hear that from you, love," he chuckled, wincing a little at his sore side. "What happened?"

Her pretty face twisted sorrowfully, her large eyes appraising him slowly. "You don't remember."

He winced, his hand gently pressing against his side. "I might need a bit of a refresher."

She looked unsure by the whole idea, something dark lurking in her eyes. "You broke your leg," she said quietly, pursing her lips a bit. "You went off to do a case by yourself."

He stared at her for a moment, brow furrowed as he struggled to remember. In an instant, it all hit him like a freight train, and his leg throbbed at the horrifying memory.

"I remember now," he muttered, moving his eyes away from hers. "Took one hell of a hit from a hellhound on steroids."

Zed smiled a little, shadows still lingering in her eyes. "I would say that's an understatement."

He nodded with a shrug, wincing when it pulled at his bruised side. "Why the hell does my side hurt?"

"Cracked ribs," Zed supplied quickly. "And you have a few stitches in your head. You should thank me for saving your hair."

His eyebrows shot up. "They were going to shave my bloody hair off?"

"Only a little bit," she teased, grinning softly. He scowled at the very idea, absently pressing a hand against the familiar poke of stitches.

"Well, look who decided to wake up."

John looked to the doorway, relieved to see his best mate striding into the room. The feeling wavered when he saw the same darkness in Chas's eyes, haunted and recovering. He chose to ignore it.

"When are you busting me out of here?" John asked casually, smiling cheekily. Chas tossed him a look of irritation, only half serious.

"You took one hell of a beating, John," Chas muttered. "Even with the rod in your leg, you've got a little recovery to go."

John frowned. "A rod?"

"Come on, John. You broke your femur. What did you expect?" Chas scoffed, dropping into a seat.

The exorcist shrugged, a look of playful thought on his face. "Didn't know it was my femur, mate."

Chas didn't say anything for a minute, settling on a healthy glower at John.

"You're impossible," Chas muttered, narrowing his eyes intimidatingly. "You better not pull this kind of shit with the doc. And listen to everything he says or I'll kick your ass myself."

"Alright, alright…" John muttered, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "It was just a li'l break and a few stitches."

"I wouldn't call your femur a little break," Chas warned, his expression dark. A short silence settled in uncomfortably, making John's innards squirm nervously.

"You couldn't even talk, John," Zed mumbled, her voice soft and small. "You could barely breathe, you were in so much pain." John crumbled a little at her defeated tone, picking up the fear in her words. He felt a bit guilty. Just a bit.

"Alright, I'll listen to the bloody bastard," he sighed, pursing his lips in stubborn reluctance. Chas tossed him a threatening glare, a hint of annoyance glimmering in his eyes. Zed could only offer a miniscule, empty smile.

The uncomfortable silence drifted back over them, leaving a bitter chill in the air. John shifted uneasily, a hand hovering over his bruised side as he winced.

"I'll see if they can give you something for the pain," Zed said hurriedly, moving from her chair, and practically flying out of the room. Before John could say a word, she'd already made a mad dash through the door.

"This whole thing kind of upset her," Chas supplied, a heavy sigh breezing out of his lungs. "Shook her up to see you like that."

John let out a long sigh, tilting his head back as he stared impatiently at the ceiling. "I'm fine, Chas."

"We know that, John," Chas grumbled, his brow furrowing with a touch of anger. "But you should've heard you. Should've _seen_ you."

John let another lengthy breath out of his nose, closing his eyes. "I have an idea of what it bloody looked like."

"Then you have to understand how Zed feels. She's new to this kind of thing, And I think she's developed a bit of a protective streak for you."  
John frown, lifting his head as he stared at his friend. "Zed? Protective?"

"Should have seen her when she heard what Anne Marie did to you. I almost thought she was planning a damn murder in her head," Chas huffed, leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms. "You've got a loyal follower in that one. Don't abuse it."

John donned a somber expression, his dark eyes growing darker. "I think we both know I wouldn't, mate."

Chas's mouth quirked in an empty smirk, turning his gaze to the doorway. "Just let her fuss over you for awhile," he suggested, eyes blankly watching the hallway outside. "I think she deserves it after the hell you put her through."

John followed his stare, not really knowing what he should look at. "Sounds fair."

"And, John," Chas sighed, turning back to his best friend. "No more solo cases."

John smiled, that mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes.

"Can't make any promises, mate."

 _ **END.**_


End file.
